Rescue me
by xXCHAZYWOOXx
Summary: Templeton "Faceman" Peck. Unable to hold a real life, he goes out one night to have a night to himself. Within a drunken state, he is captured and brutally tortured by Decker. Who will come to his rescue when the rest of the team have no idea he's gone?
1. up for hire

**Chapter One. The A-Team, Up for Hire. **

**I know, I know. My chapters are never long. But quality is always more important then quantity. Please fasten your seatbelts, don't climb outside of the plane you'll only end up dead. Have a nice flight. **

"I shouldn't have egged him on." Face looked up at tall white haired figure in front of him.

"_Well, you learn fast don't you?"_ Hannibal reached down to examine the bruising cheek on the young Lieutenant. _"Quite a punch he had, what'd you do to make him hit you?_" Hannibal reached his hand out and was given a lighter by B.A Baracus. He lit his cigar and chomped down on it releasing the smoke into the air. Face coughed and waved the smoke away.

"_I might have met his daughter."_ Face chuckled and looked off to the side after receiving one of those famous disappointed sighs from the Coronal. _"It's not like I __did__ anything right? I mean, all I did was kiss her, and who would have thought that Decker was standing right there?" _

"_Face."_ Peck looked up at Hannibal. _"You 'ought to be more careful. It might not be his fist he hits you with next."_

"_Yeah! It'd me my fist sucker."_ B.A held up his hand and quickly moved forward causing face to shield his face for the blow that was expected. B.A chuckled. _"Oh ha, ha B.A"_ Murdock placed his arm on B.A, putting his weight on his shoulder. _"Just because the Europeans did it to the Native Americans doesn't mean you can do it to our buddy Faceman here."_

"_Get off me you crazy fool!"_ B.A shouted swatting Murdock from his shoulder. _"You got little Native Americans in your head! No one listens to your crazy jibber jabber!"_

"_Billy does,"_ Murdock smirked as he petted the imaginary image,_ "who's a good Billy? Yeah! That's you!" _B.A growled with anger, _"I'm gunna kill that invisible dog of yours!,"_ B.A aggressively started kicking his feet trying to make contact with the pretend dog. _"If he's 'pretend' then why are you trying to kick him?" _Face and Hannibal sprung into action, quickly grab B.A's arms before he can do any physical damage to Murdock.

"_Let me go! Let me go!"_ B.A shouted. Face rolled his eyes, _"now why would we do that? Jeesh B.A you have to give us at least a little credit."_ B.A jerked his arm and pushed Face downwards onto his backside.

"_The only thing I'll give you is a knuckle sandwich!"_ _"Does that have mayo on it? I really hate mayo, it makes my stomach complain, and man when that thing starts it never stops!"_ Murdock interrupted. As B.A and Murdock sorted out their differences threw violent acts and miscellaneous shouting of fruits from Murdock Face and Hannibal continued their conversation.

"_He's probably heading out here right now!"_ Face hung his head on his chest, "I _really liked Danielle. Why does every girl I trust have to turn on me, or have a trigger happy father?" "Who knows,"_ Hannibal signaled to B.A to start up the van. With a look at the lieutenant being so depressed, his heart sank. Hannibal placed his hand on his shoulder reassuringly, "_Face, I think you've just hired the A-team."_

Face smiled and looked up, _"Do I have to pay?"_

Decker growled, slamming his fist into the desk, _"Dammit! That is the second time that idiot Peck has evaded me!" "I was this close, this close to sending him a life in prison, but of course the little slime ball finds his way out, AFTER planting a kiss on my daughter!"_

The door to the office opened slightly, quickly Decker dropped his mood and looked at the woman walking in. She had long brown hair and shining blue eyes. She wore a blue dress with lace around the belt area. _"Now, now Dad, you have to watch that blood sugar of yours."_ Decker sighed and held his daughter protectively. He smiled at her, _"No one will ever hurt my Darling." "I know Dad."_

**End of Chapter One. **

**If you want this story to continue please, write a review and tell me how it should go. Should Face finally get the girl, what kind of crazy stunt will Murdock pull? Who knows! I didn't write this! Oh wait I did. **

**Comment/review. **


	2. the old king is dead

**Chapter Two: The old king is dead**

** Hello readers. I have noticed a steady incline in my views in less then 3 days. Who would have thought? Well, I have broken my thumb in a cotton candy machine so if there a specific spelling errors that I have not picked up on, it is because one of my fingers are no use to me. (I don't consider a thumb a finger, but my doctor said it is.) Well. Enjoy the story.**

** These chapters will be longer. But take notice that if they are longer, it will take longer to write and create into my mind. I have not created a plot and am going with whatever seems best. Review bad if necessary, but keep a good attitude. I am an amateur after all.**

* * *

It's nine O'clock on a Saturday. The crowd of the bar quietly takes there seats. Smoke stays high on the ceiling from the anxious smokers below. A man with a whiskey hands the bar tender his tip, turning to face the stage. A woman with long brown hair, curved perfectly with hours of careful tending to, stands alone by the microphone. She looks at the state of the crowd of men, and sighs, knowing that this will be a long night.

Face looks up with a drowsy expression, drained from his energy. He stands dead on his feet, and makes his way unhurried to the counter. Taking a look at the man behind the counter he waves his hand shakily. He drones, "_Beer_," softly with an overwhelming whisk of alcohol coming from him. The man nods and hands the burned out man his bottle. "_Sir do I need to take your keys?"_ Face laughs. _"You don't be needing to do, I'm not driving," _he slurs. The man just nods and continues cleaning the wine glasses.

* * *

Hannibal shakes his head. He puts a cigar in his mouth and lights it, lying on his back and watching the smoke of the cigar flow upward and make different shapes and designs. Reaching up, he holds a finger out, twirling the smoke in his hand. Day dreaming and coming up with new never attempted before ideas. Running spy missions and new adventures threw his mind. The adventures with Stockholm perhaps, the day Face was shot. He sits up abruptly, shaking the Lieutenant pained expression from his mind. Those memories were the ones he's tried to forget. _'So many images..'_ He touches his head and looks off to the side.

* * *

"_Have any nines?_" B.A looks up at Murdock for his answer. Murdock cringes his nose in thought looking down at his cards. Turning them upside down he shakes his head, "_Nope_." B.A grits his teeth, he grabs the cards from Murdock and flips them the right way, _"You crazy fool! You had 3 nines sucker!" "What are you talking about B.A those are sixes."_ B.A jumps over the counter and grabs Murdock by his jacket collar. Hannibal walks out of his room as he notices the large man strangling the mentally impaired. He sighs rolling his eyes. With a quick look around he notices something, "_Where's face?_" B.A and Murdock stop there wrestling to look at Hannibal.

* * *

Face takes a step with beer dripping down his chin. The bar tender takes his keys and shows Face out of the bar. Face smiles as he leans his head back, drops of rain running past his forehead and down onto his cheeks. He throws his arms out to his sides and twirls, laughing happily. He falls to his knees in a drunken state. Head cocked to the side as he watches the water drip from his brow and tap into a puddle of sky tears.

Behind branches and leaves two men sit and watch the lieutenant. One aims his gun and the other grins as he takes in his victory. With a wave of his hand a shot is fired. Soon the drunken team member finds himself on his back and his world spinning around him.

**This chapter is not finished. I just posted it so I wouldn't keep sitting starring at this part and unable to finish it. It will be done soon. I thought you guys needed something to look at.**


	3. In the pit of hell

Face was awakened with a jolt; his eyes flashed around the room. _Ok, Ok. Stay calm._ He needed to follow the instructions Hannibal gave him for when he was captured. Templeton was the team's con-man which meant that he could be expandable, or pushed to do other things that the other team members couldn't handle. Murdock, when trapped in enclosed spots would flair his upper extremities, shouting and drooling, imitating a rabid squirrel or dog. Bosco Baracus on the other hand, would tear the officers who would stand outside the doorway into two neat piles. That would definitely enforce 20, or 30 more years in prison, if it ever came to that. Hannibal simply was the man with plans. If he was captured, the team would fall apart. Like a child without its mother. That left Face, the youngest member of the team, to do every inside job that came to the team. _Great._

_First, observe your surroundings, look for any weak links that may lead to your later escape._ Peck moved his head but found it difficult. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and moved his chin to his chest, looking down at his body. What he noticed was one of the many things the team always counts on in these situations. _Ropes._ There were four sets. One around his neck, lose enough for him to speak and breathe, but tight enough to keep his head to the table underneath him, another around his torso, and one around his ankles. The last was saved for his wrists. He could feel the pulse in them as they throbbed with the overly tightened rope. Secured tightly, Face could only hope that one of the Team members picked up on his absence.

* * *

Everyday Hannibal and the team wake up at exactly eight A.M, cleanse them selves of the nights before, and get ready for the day to come. There was one small problem.

Hannibal had woken up to light breathing and the tossing and turning of the Captain. Though that is what you would expect in a house containing the A-team, there was a certain sound that Hannibal had not been able to pick up on. The early morning hair salon Face had turned the bathroom into. Every morning Templeton would wake earlier than the team and make his daily routine. Without the wakening sound of the hair dryer or the water of the shower, Hannibal was immediately alerted to his absence. With that said, he woke the sleeping members of the team.

* * *

Two hours had passed since he found himself bound to the hard spine irritating table beneath him. Trying to shift his body he found the rope around his neck to tighten and cut off the air to his lungs. Quickly, he threw out the fabulous idea of comfort. He twitched his fingers and tickled the rope, trying to unwind the fine strands that made up the thick string. It was tedious at the least, but most of his escapes were, even though Hannibal was the escape artist. He sighed at the thought of his team. _ What if I don't see them again? I'll never know what it's like to be normal… _He sighed once again, and continued working.

Within several moments, he heard the unnerving clang of the door. He stopped immediately unwinding, and wrapped his fist around the rope, to hide his escape attempt. Wincing, Face moved his head up, but found the rope tightening once again. He dropped his head down, regretting it the second it hit hard surface. He groaned slightly, but cut the air from escaping his mouth before he found out who his host was. The man (or woman) entered silently. He tried relying on his ears to pinpoint where the person was that had entered, but he realized it to be completely useless when he found no sound echoing to his ears. He could, however, see the shadow creeping across his vision, only making his agitation worse.

Since his visitor wasn't talking, he decided he'd introduce himself, "You know it's very rude to sneak up on a man who is trying to have beauty sleep." The shadow ceased, and Face wondered silently to himself if he made the right decision to speak up first. _Maybe they thought I was unconscious and were waiting for me to wake up. Nice going face, who knows what they'll do now that you're awake. _He twisted his neck uncomfortably, trying to get a look at the person. The silence was driving his nerves into frenzy. He caught a glimpse of an olive green uniform. Face took studies under clothing that people wear all over the globe, but he knew this one in particular. He moved his head back before he went unconscious once again from the rope around his neck.

The man seemed to be observing him, Face concluded. Watching the way his body twitched, and how he moved his head to spot him. He stopped himself thinking he was amusing the visitor. He decided to wait until the man would introduce himself. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the man who was next to him. He propped an eye open when the silence was becoming overwhelming. Blinking, he gasped with wide eyes. The man had moved over him, and into his vision. Face jerked his body upward to move away from the somewhat evil stare he was receiving, but ended up in a strangle hold from the rope. He moved his body downward before he could do any harm.

"Well don't go and kill yourself. I won't have any fun." The man leaned closer to Peck and examined his handsome face. He put his hand on Face's cheek and pinched, causing the lieutenant to jerk his head from his hand in pain. Smirking, the man touched the bruise that rested around the side of Face's left eye. "Didn't know I had it in me," he said chuckling, "I should sign up for wrestling." The man's crude humor brought no comfort to Templeton. It made his desire for rescue higher. Face barked, "Don't touch me! Let me go Decker!" The older man shook his head in disappointment. "Do you not understand defeat Peck? I was sent here to interrogate you, since it's my honor for capturing the infamous Templeton "Faceman" Peck. But after you kissed and manipulated my daughter, you made this personal…" Face winced as he could feel Decker's cold breath close to him. He stuttered, "wh-what exactly d-do you intend to do to me?"

Decker smirked. "I intend to show you hell."


	4. Someone Save Me

**Warning. –****This page contains torture, gore, and violence; some curse words may be used. If you are under the age of 13, and/or can not hear, think, or see anything of the sort, please move to the next chapter and don't read any chapter with this warning. Thank you for your cooperation. **

Murdock groaned, early awakenings were one of his many weaknesses, next to the simply obvious fact of his mental stability. He sits up, as he always does in these occasions, and tries to locate his mental dog, Billy. _"Billy?_" He asks, whistling, "_Here boy!_" The large African American sleeping next to him stirs.

He winces as he stands, holding a small brown teddy bear close to his chest. He takes a cautious step over the man, and makes his way around, whistling and looking for the image of his mind. After about an hour of searching, he comes up short. Sighing, he looks at the sleeping man. Quickly, he moves, until his knees are imbedded into the carpet and his face looms over the darker pigmented.

He uses the paw of the stuffed animal that was buried into his chest to lightly tap B.A's cheek. Baracus always had his temper problems, but the team usually avoided them, with the help of the youngest, Face. He'd con B.A into thinking that everything was alright, and no one was hurt, suffered any trauma, or in some cases, flown by a mental patient to a different far away land. _Without Faceman how will we ever survive? _

Murdock looked down. He was actually afraid of loseing Templeton. He had already lost his mind but the lieutenant was the only one of the team that bothered to get down into the dirt and help him find the shattered glass that remained. He needed someone to talk to, and with Billy gone, that left him with one other option. The questioned remained, was B.A up for comfort?

He sighed, and pressed the bear paw back on Baracus's cheek, pushing it in lightly. He almost screamed and flew from her perch when he saw the brown eyes snap open with anger. He stumbled back feet kicking at the hard floor to push him to the wall. He could hear the growl raising in B.A's throat. He swallowed his pride and stood, pulling the bear closer. "_Uh-uhm. B-B.A?"_

Of course B.A cared about his team. He cared like Murdock does, and Hannibal, but when it comes to actually tolerating them, he finds it a different story. Glaring at the shaking man he grunts, "What is it now fool?" And what was replied to his question caused the heart of B.A Baracus to soften from its hard outer shell. _"I'm scared B.A, I'm scared about Faceman…" _Hannibal had just entered the room when he heard the ending statement. He shook his head, _"Face is tough, he'll hang in there till we can figure out where he went."_

* * *

Face winced as tight cuffs pushed into his sore wrists. He let out a small groan stifled in his sleeve. His back, now against a wall instead of a table, crooked in the middle from the day he spent lying in a most uncomfortable position that his back now refused to mold from. He resumed his sarcastic dialogue, and rude comments, but it seemed that none of it reached Decker's ears. The man was determined; Face had to give him points for that. He looked at the device the man had hooked his body to. It resembled a table, only placed against a wall. A large wheel like device pushed and pulled chains to his right.

He quickly looked at Decker, "_This is a war crime!"_ Decker grinned, _"It can't be a war crime if this isn't a war." _He pulled a lever and the device started. Slowly it moved, pulling Face's arms and legs into an X' like position, but it didn't end there, it continued to pull, until extreme pain filled his joints. He pushed his head back and screamed into the dark room.

* * *

He sat up quickly, eyes wide, and newly formed sweat beading at his brow. His heart was racing as fast as the room span. He looked at the driver of the vehicle he had found himself awakening to.

_"B.A?"_ He asked. The man driving the car doesn't bother to turn and face him, he lazily moves his eyes to the rear-view mirror, and takes a glance back to Murdock.

"_What is it now fool?_" Murdock's face contorts into a pout as he looks down at the floor where his feet lay and mumbles, _"never mind."_ Hannibal, whom at the moment has his nose buried in a road map, takes a quick glance at Murdock, he sighs,

_"B.A I think Murdock is worried about Faceman. You should really be more supporting."_ B.A growls, _"The day I support him is the day I die."_ Murdock whimpers and draws back into the seat. Watching the trees become a blur outside the van window.

_"Ok, so we all know that Face's favorite bar is the Naked Lady,"_ Hannibal stated, almost laughing B.A interrupts, _"like that'd be a surprise."_ Hannibal rolls his eyes and directs the van into the direction of the bar. Once there, they search the area. Murdock calls for his imaginary dog, which never comes to help him. He looks down at the ground shifting under his weight and sighs, knowing that Billy isn't coming along on this rescue mission.

* * *

Face's eyes shift around in his blurred vision. He can feel sharp tingling feelings above his brow. He can only guess weather he'd been cut upon his forehead, or if that is the sign that he will lose consciousness soon. Quickly, so he won't waste the time he has to himself, he glances about the room, looking for a small tool or spring he could mold carefully into a cutting device, to release the bonds that hold him.

Through the hours that the team had been searching for him, Decker had gone to work. He lies now, in a pool of his own blood. The clothing around his torso was cut and torn by a whip that was swung fiercely by the military officer. His wrists and ankles are bruised and torn by the chains and ropes that were assigned to them. Around his neck there are small slits and deeply colored bruises. Blood trickles down his forehead and mixes with the hair of his eyebrows, turning there light brown color into a deep maroon.

Unable to move, unable to aid himself, he sits helpless, afraid that if more blood is lost he'll never be able to see his precious Danielle, or the team members he had bonded with. He coughs until lungs fill with pain and he wheezes, trying to pull air back into the starving organs. His eyes fill with tears, and he cries curling around his painful chest on the cold concrete floor. "_Help,"_ He cries, _"Someone, please help me..."_


	5. What happened before

**Warning. –****This page contains torture, gore, and violence; some curse words may be used. If you are under the age of 13, and/or can not hear, think, or see anything of the sort, please move to the next chapter and don't read any chapter with this warning. Thank you for your cooperation.**

**This chapter isn't as bad as the warning label says. You may read on if you so choose to block out the first five paragraphs. **

* * *

Trauma can do very damaging things, as lieutenant Templeton Peck well enough knew. The tips of his fingers were making their way to becoming a fairly deep purple, he could only guess the same for his toes. He was almost glad they were shielded by the layers of fabric that make up a shoe.

He could not stand on his own, and he erased the possibility of escape from his mind. The concrete floor held no warmth, and his body grew numb to the contact with such an unforgiving surface. He begged and pleaded that the walls would cave on him that the floor would break from under his weight, anything, and anything to stop this agony.

Under such extreme conditions, he'd be at his best. His pulse rate would cause the adrenaline to coarse threw his veins, alerting him to all the danger that would come, awakening his body, and rejuvenating his coning abilities. He'd be ready to strike the minute his team had found him. Now he stares darkly into the wall ahead of him, feeling nothing, like a cold outer shell. No excitement that the walls of his unfortunate containment, would burst into flames, as a grenade launched from the fingertips of a team member crashed into it. Instead there was just a dark, cold concrete wall.

Face moved his body, stifling the scream that tore at his vocal cords. The pain was becoming unbearable. Although his mind told him not to, he looked down at the tortured body left behind. Decker had come only five minutes ago and had beaten Templeton fiercely with no mercy. As fast as it had begun, it had ended. Face was left untied in the room. He could only suspect that was because he faked his own unconsciousness. He smiled slightly as he sat up, but like a hard slap to the face, he found himself toppling over and his throat being filled with sickening bile. He coughed as it dripped from his mouth.

_How degrading, being reduced to a prison scum. _

His world began to spin as he felt sharp pain shimmy up his spine. He wailed in surprise as his body limped involuntarily. Soon enough, the darkness he's begun to call home whisked him away.

* * *

The team members begun to see flashes, memories, of their beloved lieutenant, like he was erased himself, and his memories were theirs. Each took watch during the night, guarding the black van. The one who volunteered to take the first watch would always find himself aiding the one that would wake up, sweat on his forehead, and heart pounding from his chest. The memories swamped their unconscious minds. Murdock was the most deeply effected.

* * *

**11 Years ago. 1 year before the A team became a team.**

It was a blurred memory, as far as Murdock could remember. He was pressed against a wall, instinctively trying to make himself smaller. He scarcely dared even breathe. Footsteps were drawing ominously closer, and he paused only a moment to determine what direction he should head, before he raced away, cursing the loud clapping that his boots made, giving him away, as he fled down the corridor.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he repeatedly tried each exit door he came across, in order to escape, or at least buy himself a little more time. Each one stubbornly denied him an escape route, and he raced onward, sure he could hear the sound of pursuit snapping at his heels.

A pull at his collar dropped the Captain to his knees. He looked up, drawing his weapon, but stopped when he recognized the young face looking down at him. He sighed out of relief and pushed the weapon back to its holder. He watched the man carefully, as he was hoisted up onto his feet. They didn't trust each other yet, for they had no reason to, they had only met some time before, both loathing for escape.

Realizing that they had a common enemy and a common goal, they united. As Murdock called attention to himself, Templeton found the escape vehicle, which wasn't hard, besides the obvious fact of knocking out a guard and stripping the man of his uniform. He watched as Murdock almost made his mistake and run past the lieutenant, but with swift hands he was forcibly grabbed him by the collar and jerked behind the wall that shielded them from harm as weapons fired. He pointed to the escape vehicle that he had gotten. Murdock's wild eyes widened in astonishment.

There was a large tank-like car, with wheels that resembled a crane. Four metal walls, tilted slightly towards the top side protected the vehicle from gun fire. There were a few slits where a man contained inside it could fire his weapon easily at enemies. Its gigantic structure fitted its purpose perfectly. Escape. For a moment they argued over who was going to drive such an amazing vehicle, but they were cut short of the sudden scream of a guard.

"There they are!" Templeton pushed the captain into the drivers seat and pushed his own self into the vehicle. He grabbed hold of a gun and began firing at the Russian soldiers that had taken them both captive. The captain pushed his foot onto the petal and drove the vehicle.

Only a short while passed until a massive explosion caused their thought invincible tank to roll onto its side. Its weight pushed the bottom down, close to crushing its two inhabitants. Both in shock and unable to communicate, their odds seemed almost helpless. Until they heard the stomping of boots, and the rewarding noise of an English language. Soon Americans pulled them from the tank. Templeton immediately went to the Captain.

"Are you alright there?" He asked.

Murdock cocked his head to the side, "I see you, but why do you have sailors dancing on your shoulder?"

Peck was tempted to look, but he knew if he did, he'd look as crazy as the man in front of him. Feeling a connection to the man that had risked his own life, for his, he had to repay him, even if he had to take his own life to do it. From that day on, Templeton "Faceman" Peck, visited H.M Murdock at the local VA hospital, until one day he didn't need to, for he and the Captain were closer then ever. They became part of the A-Team, four men that were inseparable. Two of the men, closely bonded with the twist of a life changing adventure.

* * *

**Please don't resist to review. I would really like to know what do you think of my story. Before you do imply so, there is no Homosexuality in this story. It is all clean friendship, and possibly family for these four men. I also hate romance, and decided that Danielle will be excluded from this story until the very end. **

**Also, I've started to change in my writing methods, tell me if you like the change or wish me to return to the original way. (compare this chapter to the first one if you would like)**


	6. Alone

This is an all-out Face chapter. There is no section where the rest of the team comes in. If you are a Face-fan, you're welcome.

There's a bunch of things a man can say to himself to make the doubts in his own mind fill with hope. That extra belief that helps him endure a mission, or in this case, a rescue. At this point, he only dreamed for someone, preferably someone he could trust, to help him. Even after being pressured that no one is coming.

He refused to be broken.

The icy concrete made the abused body cringe inwardly. Its frigid touch was almost as addictive as a cigar. It may not have been an angel's grasp, but it was as sure as hell as close as he could get. He shivered against it, but still found the time to thank it for its numbing abilities. His mind chose then to drift off into a sea of thoughts. Even as hard as he tried he couldn't catch onto any of them. They moved to fast for him to even get a grasp at what he was even trying to think. His head was spinning. Like waves they crashed with a thundering force that throbbed in its after effect. He let out a light groan as he reached his hand up to silence them. The pain didn't end with incoherent thoughts that made him think of a babbling fool, or Murdock, no it moved like a plague down his body. Radiating from the smallest bruise on his ankle, to the deepest wound on his torso. The clothing that he was so fond of ripped to shreds like he was mauled by the most aggressive of beasts. His suit jacket was no more, and he was left with torn sheets of the late undershirt; held together by insignificant threads. His naked back exposed to the cold air.

Templeton opened his weary eyes. He had to blink away the sleep that tugged on them. He might have been the most rational of the A-Team. He was clearly the most down to Earth. At least, that's what he thought of himself. When he thought of Murdock, all he could think of was a wild man, running around this world like he ruled it, like it understood him. The hard truth was the world was appalled by him. All they see is a man, twisted by a war within him that he has to act childish. A puppet to his own self consciousness. B.A would walk amongst it like he was its king, like he was invincible. And yet that couldn't stop a speeding bullet, even with those glaring eyes of his. No matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't superman. Hannibal, well, Hannibal had the jazz. Now don't get Face wrong, he understood it. He swore that in the right situation he'd bet his life on it, but other times he knew it would be the death of him, of them all. But Hannibal never seems to grasp that concept; he looks for the adventure and that overwhelming rush of adrenaline that the A-Team knew to well. It made him great as a leader, horrible as a person to rely on when they needed someone to talk to. But that was Face, the needy orphan, the despicable conman. The womanizer.

Then again, none of them were innocent.

He lowered his hand to his chest as it slowly moved up and down with his restricted breathing. He wheezed as he exhaled. Under the shreds of clothing he could feel the pulsing skin. How wonderful it was to know he'd survive to see Decker once again. His heart pounded with the thought as his breathing picked up. 'Careful Bucko, not enough oxygen in you for your blood as it is...' He let out a long painful wheeze as he rolled his body onto its side. Throwing his arm out Face put the pressure of his body onto his arm and succeeded in lifting his torso off of the concrete. His breath sped as he begun using his stored strength. His body strained as he begun using his legs. On spur of moment, his right arm collapsed taking him aback. He gasped as he hit the floor once again, his breath knocked from him. He hissed the groan formulating in his throat as his eyes searched the room, agitation settling in. At any moment the door could open, rays of light blinding his vision as his tormentor continued his work with him. He couldn't risk it. He had to move fast.

Once again he threw his arm out, this time catching hold of the concrete wall. Digging his fingers in him pulled, roughly pulling himself upwards. He gasped as his body shuddered with pain. His nerves convulsing in discomfort. 'Nothings going to stop it, just push threw it' He cheered himself on subconsciously. His elbows shook and his knees wobbled, he could feel nausea affecting his stomach. 'I have to stop, it hurts. It hurts to bad.' By end of that thought, he looked down at his body and the victory of getting onto his feet without keeling over. Face let go of the wall and allowed the full pressure of his body to seep onto his legs. Without warning his stomach leaped to his throat and he leaned against the wall, his diaphragm crushed against his lungs as he toppled over heaving up what was originally his lunch. He coughed violently as he dug his fingers into the ground. The smell of bile clogging his nose. He coughed once more as his eyes filled with tears. The pain lessening without the effort in keeping himself standing.

Finally after regaining his composure he began to stand once again. The pressure on his legs never lessened but grew, biting his lip and tasting the iron of his blood he pushed onward. 'It's all up to you now bucko.'

'No pressure...'


	7. Authors Note

A/N I know I haven't uploaded in a really long time-And I'm very sorry, but I'm trying to rediscover my love for the A-Team.

Here is a video I made while doing just that,

Please take a look!

You'll love it if you like epic music and the A-Team!

(Remove the spaces)

http:/ www .youtube. com/watch?v=pLtRNJnVcS0


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